


Televised Event

by skylinesunflowers



Category: Parks and Recreation, The Office (US)
Genre: American Politics, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Highly Inflammatory, M/M, Post-Canon, Very Liberal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylinesunflowers/pseuds/skylinesunflowers
Summary: A short double feature about Leslie and Oscar gearing up to watch the first 2020 Presidential Debate with their significant others.
Relationships: Andy Bernard/Oscar Martinez, Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	1. Oscar and Andy

**Author's Note:**

> I’m watching the debate, so I wanted to write this. Both chapters are short asf.

Oscar has absolutely no fucking clue what’s going on when he comes home to a quiet house.

He’s been campaigning all day today, with barely enough time to eat lunch. He’ll do whatever it takes to overturn Lipton, mostly out of his deep, deep sense of patriotism and love for the American people. Also because he’s feeling vindictive, and because he can beat that asshole with his eyes closed.

Andy’s moved back from New York, and he works at Wilkes-Barre University now. The house is _never_ quiet, whether Philip is running around, Andy is singing or playing one of his various instruments, or the TV is on over everything else.

Apparently, Andy isn’t home right now. Oscar throws down his letterman bag, covered in half-peeled stickers with either his face or Joe Biden’s on it.

He finds his Occam’s razor pipe t-shirt in the closet, takes out a pair of sweatpants, and goes into the bathroom to change. Oscar honestly can’t believe how tired he looks. About as tired as he feels, probably.

Andy’s waiting for him in the living room of his tiny apartment, wearing a Cornell t-shirt. His legs are covered by his (Surprise, surprise!) Cornell blanket that they somehow have thrown over the side of the couch.

The TV is on, running ABC’s pre-debate coverage, and Oscar could honest-to-God just break down crying right now. Andy pays the couch in a way _so like him_ that he can’t refuse.

“Hey, Andy,” he says, and is immediately accosted in a tight hug. Somehow, Oscar finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Well, it isn’t really all that uncomfortable.

“I’ll be so proud of you when you’re up there,” Andy says, and Oscar just has to roll his eyes at that.

“Andy, I’m not going to be on that stage. I’m running for state senator. God, you sound like Angela.”

Angela, the mother of his godson, who’s going to go against her party and vote for him. Oscar can almost feel Andy tearing up at that simple fact.

“Whatever. It’s all the same.”

“No, Andy, it’s really not. A state senator is about the farthest thing from President, other than a city councilperson.”

“Whatever.” Andy looks supremely unconcerned. Oscar almost wants to explain it to him, but that would be a waste of his night. Instead, he accepts the half-eaten bowl of salad that Andy deposits in his lap.

He watches Trump ads, Biden ads, and ads for the county commissioners, and can’t find it in himself to criticize a single one of them out loud. Then his comes on, and Andy’s cheering at the screen and singing along with the somber tune beneath all the words.

Oscar’s probably almost asleep when the debate comes on, but Andy nudges him awake. He looks at them sandwiched together on the couch, him trapped under Andy’s bulk. He can’t find it within himself to complain.

“This is boring,” Andy whines.

Yeah, sure it didn’t do much to raise awareness about their agendas. If Oscar’s being honest, he just wants to see Trump get his comeuppance.

And, Jesus Christ, he isn’t not disappointed.

A couple minutes in, and he’s literally debating the moderator. The _moderator_. Oscar barks out a laugh, while Andy stares at the screen, confused, and pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Andy does get into the insults, though. He’s known that Oscar supports the ‘not-so-orange white guy’, so he cheers whenever Biden insults him. It’s a little funny, that Joe Biden’s biggest cheerleader is a man who barely knows who he is.

Biden, obviously aggravated, says, “Will you just shut up, man?” Oscar’s apartment is filled with whoops of joy.

“That was killer!” Andy cries, looking pleased. Oscar can’t help but smile. At least he’s trying.

The winner’s not looking clear to either of them, especially not Andy, but that’s okay. Because, right now, even if it’s just for a second, Oscar can forget about politics.

Ironic, huh?


	2. Ben and Leslie

This is probably the best year of Leslie’s life.

The person chosen by her party to unseat President Trump is none other than Joe Biden. Leslie thinks she cries when they add Kamala Harris to the ticket. Ben’s learned to keep tissue boxes in the TV room whenever they watch anything to do with politics.

Tonight, the kids go to bed early. Sonia and Wesley have a debate club meeting in the morning, and Stephen is just tired. They’re willing to forgo the first Presidential debate to get some sleep, which makes Leslie suspicious of how hard that school makes them work.

She calls Ann up before the debate. Under any other circumstances, she’d have Ann over, and invited April and Andy over. Make an event out of it. Ron was boycotting to watch Jo Jorgensen ads and crappy movies about hunting.

Ann tells her that there’s no way Joe won’t win. That he could open his mouth and have the debate just like that. It calms her nerves to some extent.

Ben doesn’t cuddle with her on the couch tonight. Instead, Leslie sits up straight as a rod, trying to pay attention to the CNN anchors as they analyze what they already know about the debate. She fails.

Joe is her guy. She’s been with him for a long, long time. He’s her celebrity hall pass, if she’s being honest. Ben knows not to get jealous about the time she spends listening to him.

Leslie’s probably vibrating with excitement by the time the debate comes on. She sees Jill in the camera beforehand, passing a girl who looks like Tiffany Trump.

This is an even worse kind of excitement then the DNC. At least, then, Joe was surrounded by people who supported him. Now, it’s just him and the President.

They’re only a couple minutes in when Ben snaps, “Is Trump debating Biden or the moderator?”

That’s when Leslie decided that it’s all going downhill.

At least she doesn’t work in the White House. Tonight is all about damage control.

When Joe tells the President to shut up, Leslie dabs at her eyes with a tissue and giggles. Ben sighs.

What he doesn’t say to her, what Ann doesn’t text, and what April, Andy, Donna, Tom, Garry, and Ron probably aren’t watching, is that Joe’s going to lose it. The debate, some voters, or his temper. Leslie knows. She just won’t accept it.

“Do you think he’s doing okay, Ben?” she asks tearfully, when Joe starts to veer off track.

“He’ll get through it,” Ben says comfortingly, and envelops her in a loose hug.

Leslie tries to sit still, but it’s difficult when she wants to go on the stage and debate Trump for Joe. But he doesn’t need her to fight his battles for him.

All hope seems to be lost, when Ben pulls out a Biden-Harris sticker and hands it to her. She takes it from his hands in her own (gross) sweaty hands and holds it tightly. She takes his free hand in the other.

Ben lets her squeeze it tight, and maybe Leslie almost takes the blood out of it, but he doesn’t care. He knows how important this is to her.

Ben loves her, and, even though this is the worst Presidential debate ever, he’s here. Joe’s on TV. This is everything she’s ever wanted.

Democracy is messy. These stupid tissues are her democracy.


End file.
